Silver Bells
by Avindara Nirvene
Summary: [written for TheOriginalHufflepuff's challenge] all oneshots, all Christmas, all twelve prompts
1. of silver bells and dancing

this is written for Huffie's (TheOriginalHufflepuff) X-mas Challenge, where we have to use twelve prompts :)

yes, I've finally posted one of my lily-adoration fics XP

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of _silver _bells and **dancing**

(a lily story)

_If I could tell you what it meant, there would be no point in dancing it. _-Isadora Duncan

She used to dance with a passion, when she was younger, before Tuney stomped the fun out of it. Typical Petunia Evans, spoiling the freedom of dance by explaining precisely about pirouettes and leaps. After that, Lily never danced again. She wished everyday, however, to dance with the innocence of a child again. This she had only confessed to her best friend, Sev, during their second year.

"Oh," he replied, his dark eyes boring into her green ones. And neither of them said any more that night.

That Christmas though (four years later) – the common room was empty, as everyone else was at Christmas dinner. The fire was crackling merrily in its place all by itself, throwing lights across the gold coverings and crimson cushions. Lily had come late, finishing an essay for the Draught of Living Death. She was dashing toward the portrait hole, passing by the crackling fire when she heard soft music playing, and paused to hear. It was the tinkling sound of silver bells.

She laughed and joined the dancing flames in beat, swaying and stepping gracefully, like an elegant doe.

She was enjoying herself so much, she didn't notice a certain Potter watching her from behind a scarlet curtain, smiling.

Under the Chamber of Secrets, there lay a boy on his bed, smiling slightly, for Lily's laughter had reached him there.

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-sigh- so many implications on this. I don't know if it got to you.

feedback is greatly appreciated, so review...like now XP


	2. of empty steps and waltzes

Of _empty_ **steps** and _**waltzes**_

(a bella story)

_Dancing is the world's favorite metaphor._ -Kristy Nilsson

Her head held high in the air as she sauntered through the exquisitely ornamented hall, turning heads as she sashayed gracefully over to him.

Him, the boy she had been interested in a year back, the one she was now engaged to.

Him, the eye-turning male all the girls were after.

Him, whom she no longer perceived – neither his good looks nor his seductive personality.

He smiled, making many girls swoon, but he did not notice as he put his arm around her slender waist and there, they danced.

Stepstepstep

They moved perfectly in pace, Bellatrix's delicate high heels clinking on the marble floor.

Stepstepstep

They matched in appearance – he was tall, dark and handsome, in silk black robes. She was not as tall, but was beautiful – with dark hair and cold, gray eyes under long black eyelashes. Her stunning, indigo dress robes clung onto her curves, and trailed elegantly on the sparkling floor.

Stepstepstep

Yet they were different. No one could tell this but one Andromeda Black in chains. How could they be? They were an engaged pureblood couple – beautiful, intelligent, traditional, pure. Only Andromeda, shaking her head, understood.

Stepstepstep

Everyone crowded around, admiring, wishing them long lives, beautiful children, and wealth. Bellatrix smiled glamorously at them with blood-red lips, revealing beautiful, white teeth, but her eyes were elsewhere. She was searching, searching.

They passed Andromeda Black, near the white-clothed dining table.

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You know how much reviews mean to me :) 


	3. of broomsticks and identical brothers

this is a little rant for the mirror prompt, not a best work, but whatever :)

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of **broomsticks **and _identical brothers_

Sirius wants a toy broomstick for Christmas.

His mother, Walburga, is at St. Mungo's, so she is not able to scold him.

Orion says being about two years old is too young for a broomstick, but Sirius doesn't care. He wants one.

Uncle Alphard says he'll get the toy broomstick for him in two years, but Sirius is impatient. He wants a Zonko's broomstick, and he wants it now.

Cousin Bellatrix tells him that his mother and father are giving him something better. A brother.

Sirius stops at this. _A brother. _He's heard this word before, he knows kids with brothers – they look exactly the same, or somewhat. Like a mirror.

"Like a mirror?" he asks, and Bella looks at him weird.

Andromeda speaks up. "Yes, Sirius." She smiles at him, "Like me and Bella, we look similar, don't we?" Sirius nods. "You'll have a brother who looks like you too. Identical." "Mirror," Sirius says stubbournly, and pounds the glass table.

He is put in his room.

On Christmas Eve, his father floos Sirius to St. Mungo's, where they are to see the new baby. They walk into the room, Sirius bouncing about in his new boots from Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella. "Hello, Walburga," Orion says stiffly, looking solemn.

"Hello, Orion," Walburga replies, equally as stiffly as Sirius jumps about, screaming "Where's the baby? Where's my present? Where's my baby?"

Walburga curls her tongue back from another lashing, but thinks better of it, and hands a tiny white mound of blankets to Orion, who bends down to show Sirius. The two-year-old leans forward eagerly to look, then recoils. "He needs a bit of colour," Sirius explains to Orion's questioningly look, and within seconds, Regulus's hair has turned pink. "Now he looks much more like me, just like a mirror." Sirius sits back, satisfied, ready to receive the loud screaming and shouting of his mother. "It's the best Christmas present ever," he tells his dad, just before escaping the room from his mother.

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hehe, review:) 


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